


Two Nice People

by sgt_majorette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Ficlet, Fluff, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-19
Updated: 2008-08-19
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgt_majorette/pseuds/sgt_majorette
Summary: Neville and Hannah?





	Two Nice People

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> One of my Power Team action figures has been Neville for a couple of years. It took me a while to find Hannah among the Barbies.
> 
> This started out as a caption for a photo of Power Neville, dedicated to the DAYD crew.

Augusta Longbottom survived the Battle of Hogwarts with flying colors, but she was an old woman. That Christmas, Neville went alone to see his parents in the Janus Thickey Ward. Then he went down to the second floor, where a harassed-looking Healer huffed, “ _There_ you are! Get in there before someone _strangles_ her!”

“Go away, go away!” croaked the old lady. “Vital signs, indeed! If I had any signs of vitality, I wouldn’t _be_ in this nasty place!”

“Gran?”

“It’s the boy,” she sighed. “Alice, if I’ve told you once… Cute in the cradle, plain at the table…” She turned her head and squinted at Neville. “T’other way round, as well, I see, pudding-faced little lump as you were…” What would be a grimace to most still living, Neville recognized as Mrs. Longbottom’s most triumphant smile. She groped for his hand and clutched it with surprising strength; she looked into his eyes.

“You’ll do after all, won’t you, Nev?” she said at last.

* * *

She wasn’t brilliant like Hermione, tough like Ginny, beautiful like Lavender or Parvati, or aristocratic like the cold, mean girls of Slytherin House. She seemed a bit pathetic, actually, sometimes. She smiled too much, was too eager to please. At seventeen, her dimpled prettiness was already beginning to look a bit foolish.

On the other hand, she didn’t seem to like him any better after the battle than she did before. When she came round to the table where he found himself holding court, she brought enough butterbeer and pumpkin juice for everyone, and sat down where there was room.

He thought about that when he happened into the Leaky Cauldron some years later, and she came over to ask him what he’d have, smiling in that slightly goofy way. “Hannah! Haven’t seen you since -- ”

“Oh,” she said, blushing. “You remember me! You were brilliant that day, you know?”

* * *

Uncle Algie was pacing, looking sharply at Neville every so often through his pince-nez. “Well. Herbology Master. Respectable enough, I suppose. What do you mean to do about your family?”

“My _what_? I haven’t _got_ a family – not _really_ , you know…”

“Precisely! It’s high time you started one! My sister Augusta – rest her soul – was very proud to have given the world your father; and I know she quite depended on you _not_ to be the last of the Longbottoms.” Uncle Algernon’s expression made it clear that he did not share his departed sister’s interest in her husband’s legacy, but he was devoted to her memory, and thus determined to represent her interests. “Have you a particular young lady in mind?”

“Hey!” Neville squeaked, startled. “I mean…”

Uncle Algernon’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you don’t mean to be one of these ‘confirmed bachelors’. The Wizarding world needs all young men of good blood to do their duty! Now, if you’ve no preference, Edwin Abbott would be very happy to see his girl settled before he dies; you know he hasn’t been well since Mrs. A was murdered by those bleeders…”

Neville was about to object, but instead he took a swig of Firewhiskey. On the one hand, he was a war hero and he didn’t have to take that kind of double-barreled insult anymore. He could have his pick of the young witches who were still alive after the war, he didn’t have to settle for Hannah Abbott, nor did she, in a very good way of business running the Leaky Cauldron, not to mention her _own_ war exploits, have to settle for hapless Neville Longbottom. On the other hand, he thought, a nice, not very interesting, not too pretty, _comfortable_ sort of girl...

* * *

“And these, I’ve crossed with the Venomous Tentacula. We want to keep the potency of the seeds while making the harvesting of them less hazardous, d’you see?”

“Oh, yes. Very interesting.”

“And of course, the Hogwarts Mimbletonias are unique.”

“Yes, I remember. The swamp.” Neville turned around. Hannah was sitting slumped on an iron bench.

“Hannah? Are you all right?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m fine, really, I’m just being silly, I… _No_. They wouldn’t let me see my mother’s body. My father wakes up screaming, every night. I wish he’d die. _He_ wishes he’d die. But the Cauldron’s doing well. I’m getting some Muggle beverages in, maybe some sweets.”

Neville watched her as she talked about fizzy cola-flavored drinks and fruit juices and her father’s nightmares and what she’d overheard about her mother’s ravaged corpse. The corners of her mouth turned downwards and there were lines at the corners of her eyes and shadows underneath them. He had the ring in his pocket; since he’d gotten his own wand, he no longer forgot things. When he gave it to her, she said yes, but she didn’t smile. When he took her in his arms, he could feel her tremble slightly as she sank into his embrace.

She never could break the habit of smiling too brightly in public. But at home she would let herself be comforted; in bed she would sometimes cry while he held her. It made Neville happy that she trusted only him with her sadness.


End file.
